Let It Be
by Sasha A. Y
Summary: Ray's life is turned upside down when his affair with Tala is caught. All the chaos that results from it doubles when an unexpected meeting with Kai, his old crush, takes place. Can Ray make it through or will he burn out in the process? KaixRay, TalaxRay
1. Deer In Headlights

Title: Let It Be

Author: Sasha A.Y.

Rating: T

Warning: Strong language, Mariah-bashing, Yaoi, substance

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade (because it's not yaoi) nor any of its characters. Don't sue, please. All the original characters from this fiction belongs only to me.

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I'm actually making a commitment to write a freaking fic! Hopefully it doesn't go too bad and will go down well. This is a comedy so beware of some OCC-ness but it will not be too overwhelming. Hopefully I'll update fast enough for viewers. I'm still a student and I work so it will be hard but I will make time for it. Promise (with a pinky!).

This fic takes place few years after the third season, in Ray's point of view.

Enjoy, and R&R!

**Let It Be**

Sasha A.Y.

Usually, I'm not the kind of person that really stays stuck in a crappy mood like I am in right now. Many people who (don't) really know me enough to have mastered the ability to read my dark (and slightly retarded?) mind will tell you that heck! Ray is the sorta person that will always be smiling no matter what kind of occasion it is, even if he has to marry the one person he had tried in many times to avoid like a health-nut to a McDonald burger. And I did, in the end, succeeding in that particular task to my utter amazement.

But this. This may be even worse than getting married to your annoying little sister and thus effectively sealing any hope of you ever having a story book happy ending you have always dreamt of.

May be.

Unfortunately thinking of what could possibly be worse than the situation I am currently cursed in and that the said situation is in fact a reality does not make _this_ situation any better. In fact, it has reminded me that after I am done with my final task here, the only thing awaiting in my (supposed to be) sweet home will be an angry housewife ready to tear my eyes out of their proper sockets while the said housewife is in expensive pink silk bathrobe, Lancôme's pink face mask (there are in fact such things on planet earth), pink ceramic hair-rollers, and freshly done pink French-manicured nails being the only one who is of any concern to the housewife during the painful eye-tearing session. Did I mention the color of which all the things are in my house? Let me repeat, in case I didn't. **Pink**. Ever since my marriage I think I've developed a phobia to the color.

Damn it! Why do I always forget to put down the freaking blinds? The scorching bright sunlight washing out the pristine white walls of my refrigerator-box shaped office are doing nothing for my dark mood or my sensitive retina. I would have permanently painted the windows with black paint if it wasn't for the teensy little fact that this spacious office is not a property of mine as of today. Got a problem with that? You can go straight to the centre core of this 60 story building, to the office with no windows (jealous), shriveled up plants, where even the devil himself would be afraid to tread and knock (if you dare) on the harsh metal door and speak (if you **still** dare) to The Bitch.

The Bitch is the quite befitting and handy nickname I have given to my not so beloved boss, the 45 years-old Ms. Nancy Kingston. Don't let the innocent-as-a-southern-cookie-selling-girl-for-charity name fool you. And yes, I did not make a mistake when I said Miss. Despite her rather impressive advancement in the aging department, she is not married; the reason being that the no sane man of this world would ever, ever get within a mile radius of her. Only a person like Bryan would… But considering he's not really what one would call "sane"…

Though I am a grown man standing 5 feet 10 inches, The Bitch is still an inch or two taller than me. Her military-trained shoulders and back does the (un)necessary talking when her head is facing away from you. I once tried to measure her back when she had turned around but my survival instinct told me not to take out my meter stick and get close to her. She gets into a "self-defense" mode when you get into her personal space (not that you'd ever want to in the first place) and does what her animalistic instinct tells her to do; fight. Once, a young woman (a new employee) got in there to pick up a pencil The Bitch has dropped, and she did not survive…

All right, so I'm exaggerating. She **did** in the end make it, but she was in a coma for a couple of days plus 3 months of intensive hospital care. And a year of therapy for the trauma she has suffered through. Yeah, like I need that right now.

I don't understand why Mr. Dickenson hired her in the first place. I guess she must've had the proper training for the job she is in right now but still! Look at her! She is a hazard to the workmen around her. I'm surprised nobody put up a court case against her all this time. But then again, you really wouldn't if you want to live even up till the due court date. Restraining order just won't do it.

My sensitive eyes finally adjust to the blinding room. Man, I really have to get started if I want to clear out my stuff by the end of today. I'm not a very organized person and my office looks like it's just been through hell, or through The Bitch on one of her erratic rampages. That women (if she is in fact one) is like a stampede of elephants times infinity.

"Need help?"

That familiar soothing voice does not have its normal affects on me. Actually my current disastrous situation took place because of him. Why on earth did he decide to work at the BBA headquarters? Most people (well, everybody during the championships) including me thought he'd hole up in some wintry Siberian place feeding wolves their deers or whatever they eat but instead he decided work for the good of the sport of beyblading. The irony.

"I don't really want to speak to you right now."

My curt reply does nothing for him and he glides into the room anyway. Yeah, Tala doesn't walk, he glides everywhere even on concrete. I don't know how he does it. I'm part cat and I don't even walk like that.

Although I have my back turned against him I can still tell what he's doing thanks to my keen ears. He's bustling about, picking up some of the trash that has been starting an environmentally hazardous landfill site in the corner next to a full garbage can. I'm still trying to put all my books and paperwork into a neat pile on a humongous cardboard box I found in the recycling room but as my room screams, I'm just not an organized person. Huh, there's the page with all the important phone numbers that I 'lost' couple months ago. Who'd have thought it would be stuck on page 62 of "How to become a better lover… in Bed?". Why do I even have this book? What could I have possibly been trying to…

Whoa. Okay, better get that out of sight before Tala sees i-

"What are you doing there?" I hear him 'glide' over. Shit, I better hide this somewhere.

"Nothing! Just… Ow!"

Just freaking wonderful. Nothing like a severe paper cut to brighten up one's mood. Don't you just hate paper cuts? I mean, look. You're doing basically nothing, minding your own business, and an inanimate object- wait. Inanimate _seemingly harmless_ object like a paper decides to go against you and cut you. Paper cuts aren't big enough for a band-aid, and yet they hurt like hell.

"What's wrong?" Tala, now on my right looks at me.

I got to say Tala looks especially angelic and tempting standing in front of sunlight like that. His pale skin just glows like a stray light from heaven. His fiery red hair a perfect contrast to his milky skin. I can see a few freckles from here but that just adds to his innocent child-like looks. His ice-blue eyes are filled with concern and his pale pink lips… No, no! I'm supposed to be angry right now! He cost you your job! Your 20 dollars an hour job! And you don't even have a high school diploma.

" Oh nothing. Just got fired you know? I'll get over it. It's not like I have a family to support or anything."

Tala narrows his eyes but he says nothing. He'd better not! It's just as much his fault as it is mine. The only reason he didn't get his ass fired is that he's doing some real important stuff right now at the top of BBA. Yeah, he's pretty smart. That just adds salt to the wound. What, I'm not an employee of equal importance to the BBA? I stood by their side ever since I was drafted for the Bladebreakers, and Tala here was on the super evil side first, then came over, yet they trust him more with all the important stuff and not me. Yeah I'm an uneducated country farm boy but I deserve some respect for being there for them the whole time! I _could_ tell Mr. Dickenson of this and try to save my ass but getting caught in a… 'heated' situation with another in the photocopying room which is really public for all really isn't the sort of thing you want to tell a traditional old man like Mr. D., especially since the said lover is a male. A **damn** fine male…

Something suddenly grabs my left hand which I had been holding with my right without me knowing. Oh, it's Tala. Well, duh, Ray. Who else is in the room? I tend to really space out from time to time and get lost in my own head… Wow, that sounds so moronic. But then again, I am pretty dumb so I… guess… it doesn't matter…? Shouldn't matter? ...Whatever.

"A paper cut." Tala states. Well, yeah it is.

"So?"

My nasty tone once again has no wanted affect on him. What, is my voice some kind of an annoying background noise that anybody can just drain out? I want to be heard from time to time! Through my inner turmoil, I am aware that Tala is looking calmly at my finger. It's actually really scary. Considering the disturbing past this redhead has had, I still don't know if he will spontaneously break out into evil cackle at the sight of red drops of blood that is now seeping through my cut skin. I hope he doesn't because if he does, I will have to push him through the glass window of this office on the 20th floor, effectively killing him in the process and adding murder to my records. Also, the only source of happiness in my otherwise tragic life will be gone, and I don't want that… Do I? Nope. Definitely not. Chances of that happening are slim to nil but hey, you should never be off guard…

Wow. That last thought has brought back some painful memories about a certain person… in the past…

Sudden feeling of wetness snaps me out of my thoughts and I look to the direction. It's Tala. He has my bleeding finger in his mouth lightly patting the blood away with his tongue. Damn. He always knows which buttons to press. He's peering at me through his two stranded bangs and I can't help but blush and resist a moan at the sensation.

When he's done, he holds my hand and guides me to my desk. He takes a band aid out of my drawer and bandages up the wound. How on earth does he find these little things in this shit hole? Again, my ever inferior intelligence and organizing skills shine through like fireworks on the night of New Year's Eve.

"You know, a paper cut isn't big enough for a band-aid." I stiffly state while he's wrapping the strap around the tip of my fourth finger.

"Relax. One band-aid used on a paper cut won't kill anyone." Tala says, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Wait just one nose picking minute.

I take my hand away from his and look at him square in the eyes.

"Tala. You do realize I'm serious right now (for once). I just got fired. **Fired** Tala. Do you know what this means? It's not just getting fired. I have a family. A kid. I can't get fired! What am I going to tell Mariah? As much as I want to leave her, I can't let Rose have a father who can't even support her, or even worse, lose her! God. You're un-freaking-believable-"

I'm suddenly speechless. My lips, which has been flapping about around 100 miles a second, is stopped when another, stronger, warmer force is on it. At first I want to break off. I want to tell Tala off and blame him but his arms have moved up and are around my waist and my arms aren't doing much other than holding the front of his shirt.

Well, Damn. How on earth am I suppose to resist this? Well, if I could, then I wouldn't have had willingly taken my clothes off in the building and get the same semi-exposed ass fired now would I?

I lose control (as always) and I give in to my physical needs first, responding, craving him. God he tastes just like honey. His kisses are tender and giving yet he does not lose the control of it. I try a couple times to dominate but he has the height advantage. I give up and am content to just follow him, breaking off for a couple nanoseconds for a breath here and there.

After God knows how long, the need for oxygen becomes too great and we break off, panting and sweating, but still holding each other like it's our lifeline.

"I hate you." I mumble into his shirt.

"I love you too." He mumbles back. His head is on my head and he is twirling his slim fingers around my hair. I'll have to brush out the knots later. If I wait until the night, then it'll just end up looking like one massive hair ball (no pun intended).

The said slim fingers have now crawled underneath my dress shirt and are caressing my back. His fingers are relatively cool to my heated skin and the stark contrast makes me gasp and arch my back against him, goosebumps covering my whole body. What am I doing? I should be angry and seething and blaming the infuriating bastard but… But I just can't seem to get enough of him. Haven't I learned my lesson already? If getting fired isn't the key to getting away, then I doubt there really is anything else… Unless somebody threatens to take Rose away from me that is. Then I would willingly throw Tala out the window (again) and wrestle the wretched man to death for her.

Now who on earth is this Rose you might ask? Well, I darn well forgot to tell you simpletons about the other source of happiness of my otherwise tragic life haven't I. Silly me.

Rose. Well, to put it simply, is my daughter. Surprised? You should be because I sure as hell was when I got the news that Mariah was pregnant when the only time we ever had sex was the night of our honeymoon. Feel free to think that I'm pulling your short unshaven legs but I certainly am not. I'm dead serious. Few months after our honeymoon, Mariah was bawling her eyes out telling me that she was pregnant after she got back from a clinic downtown Tokyo. Oh no. Mariah doesn't trust the whole home-checking thing. She has to go to a professional to tell her that after weeks of morning-vomiting, pigging-out-on-pickles, and the fact that she has not had her period for 3 months wasn't enough to get it through her thick skull. I just didn't expect it because I don't pay attention to her on my best of days so why the hell should I on any other ordinary days? I do my best to drown out her shrilly screeching at home and make any sort of desperate excuses not to get in bed with her.

The honeymoon thing… I had no way of getting out of. And to be honest, I'm a guy too. I mean, I'm a bi, so I still do get turned on by hot girls. Don't be confused, Mariah isn't hot by any means, but after bottles and bottles of vodka in a feeble attempt to die of alcohol poisoning had the opposite effect, and made Mariah's body actually…. (all right, I'll say it) desirable, for some sort of release (no pun intended). Come on, she isn't morbidly obese or anything.

When Mariah came bursting through the door, I thought our latest supply of chocolate chip cookies have run out and stood up to go to the Uncle-Charlie's-Chocolate-Chip-Cookies boutique to get some but instead got run over by a heavy pink fur ball down to the ground. When she first told me through her snorting and sniffing, I thought I was finally hearing things after several months of my head eating the floor due to Mariah's "salutations", mainly involving full-body wrestling tackles that's enough to knock even Gary out.

Um… What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Rose. Yeah, so that's basically how she came about. I can proudly say to little children around the world, that I finally know where babies come from. Rose... I can't believe a creature like her came out of the Revolting Pink Harpee. I'm not all that great of a human specimen either but think about it. Two negatives make a positive. I guess that's the case in this one. Thank God though. If she was anything like Mariah… I don't think I would've been able to take it. I think I might've done something very morally wrong and leave her and the may-have-been-mini-she(devil). Considering that I don't really give a hoot about morality, and that I would've happily strangled her neck before, it really wouldn't have been a problem.

However, Rose turned out to be the most angelic little thing I've ever seen. That's saying a lot since I've seen Max's baby photos. He should've been in Huggies commercial or something… But then again, they would've just caught a blurred yellow blob on the photo instead of a normal two-years old.

Rose is now five years-old, but is extremely smart. I tell you, this girl is _nothing_ like me or Mariah. Well, actually, her outer appearance is quite like me. It's the dark hair. I have darker hair than Mariah, so it's more dominant, therefore is expressed while Mariah's pink hair is hidden somewhere in the chromosomes… Deep down where I hope to never see it surface on top of Rose's beautiful black head. And for the sudden surge of wisdom about dominant-recessive gene thing? Well, I'm just one of those people who have seen House one too many times. Admit it, you've seen it too.

Huh? Is it just me or did the room suddenly get a little colder?

Oh. It's Tala. He noticed my lack of enthusiasm for sensual groping and now has moved away. Well, you'd think that he'd get pretty pissed off of my suddenly dry reaction, but it's quite frequent actually. I told you. I tend to really space out. Tala noticed this after a couple months with me and does not take offense to it. Come on. I'm Ray. What do you expect? Normal human behaviour?

Tala has now been with me ever since the third tournament terminated. I got employed at the BBA headquarters in Tokyo, and as he did too. We actually weren't all that close in the beginning. I had some reservations for him even after the whole turning-to-a-good-guy thing during the third championships because… Well, Tala's Bryan's captain, and thus keeps in contact with him and anything or anyone that's even remotely related to Bryan, I want to condemn to the deepest pits of hell. I once went to the mall for god knows what and was passing by American Eagles when I saw their eagle logos on the sweaters, and was so tempted to go in and tear those sweaters to bits. But, to save myself from forcibly being confined into the nearest mental institution (or jail), I didn't. Though sadly, I do sometimes think I do belong in there for the safety of both me and those around me (excluding Mariah).

Despite my early uncertainties, I did get acquainted with him (obviously). He actually is a pretty friendly person, which surprised me a lot. Well… Actually, he isn't friendly. I don't know. He was just okay-ish for me in the beginning and really didn't talk to anyone else, nor talk to anyone else now. Anywho, we became friends. His shoulder was there for me to cry on when I finally (despite my desperate attempts to break free) got married to Mariah. After that, we became lovers.

I don't even exactly know what or who caused it, but I think we sort of just… melted into it. Neither of us actually even stated that we are together. It just sort of happened. One day he was a friend, the next, we were eating each other's faces off. I don't know. It's complicated, and being the simple minded country folk that I am, I don't want to think about it.

"It's not fair." I said. Random? Yeah, but I just felt like I needed to tell Tala that this whole situation was not fair.

"What?"

"We were both in equal amount of trouble, and yet I'm the only one getting fired."

"Because-"

"I know, I know. The whole… big project thing. What the hell is it about anyhow?"

"Can't tell you. Company secret." Of course. The Party-pooper.

"Come on. You can do better than that."

"Sorry kiddo, I'm all out of quarters." And he smiles. Don't freak out. I told you, friendly only to me. And it doesn't even matter because that makes him so gosh-darn cute!

The whole room is quite now that both of us have made a silent pact of actually cleaning up the Mount Fuji of trash that my once upon a time ago was a clean office. That reminds me… Wasn't there something I wanted to keep a secret…?

"Wow Ray. So, this is the position you were trying to do to me in the photocopying room? I'd be happy to try it now if you want." Tala snickers. The little bastard.

"Please. I don't need any more witnesses to our condemned relationship. The Bitch was _quite_, enough. "

Yes. The one who'd caught me and Tala in the photocopying room was The Bitch. It has got to be _the_ worst thing that can happen to a person in the entire space/time continuum. She didn't outright smash my skull to bits because of Tala (higher standings than her-HA!), but after firing me, she "kindly" offered to tell my gentle wife about it, to "share the burden". Please. Just humanely euthanize me now.

After what seems like couple millenniums plus three ice ages later, the room is about half way done and Tala looks exhausted. I am too. I try to stand straight but I think my back has permanently morphed into a hunchback. Note to self: start looking for a job in bell-tolling in a famous cathedral somewhere. I crank my neck up to the other side of the semi clean room and see spider webs with dead insects on the left corner ceiling. Ew.

I hear Tala sigh.

"You know what? I think it's just better to hire someone who's used to such a mess. (gives me a you're-such-a-dirty-slob look) I don't think we'll get it done even if we stay the whole night here. And anyway, you'd better get back home and see how Mariah's holding up."

Like I want to deal with that.

And Tala just gave me another one of he's famous I-pity-you-but-it-is-for-your-own-good-to-take-care-of-it look.

"How do you do that?" I have to know before I die which will be in oh, I don't know, about 10 minutes? Just enough time for me to slowly crawl my way home/demise.

"What."

"Reading my mind. It's freaky. Stop doing that. " I have to find something to stall time!

"Call it a sixth sense. And the fact that you kind of have this thing where you speak your thoughts out loud. "

Oookay. Better watch that.

"Yeah." He says. Damn, I did it again. Not learning from my mistakes always has been my downfall.

"You want a ride home?" He asks.

"And have you killed on my doorstep? I don't think so. Thanks for your concerns but I think Mariah's going to do a little more than invite you for tea and cookies when she sees you."

"Alright… Be careful. I don't know what she's going to do but don't hope for a miracle. I heard what Kingston (Bitch) said to her on the phone… Let's just say she didn't leave anything to the imagination. "

Oh God… I really am going die. If only I did some good during my short life on earth to earn myself a ticket to heaven. Well… actually, living with Mariah without killing her should be enough to earn any man the aforementioned ticket, but it would be nice to have some insurance. I guess I'll finally find out which religion is right after all. Too bad I won't be alive to tell the tale.

Whoa, don't know how he does it (again), but he is now hugging me really tightly, as if I'm getting drafted to Iraq. This is probably worse but… you get the point.

"Just be careful. Don't say anything stupid. " Big assurance there. I know he trusts me now.

"Okay." My voice sounds muffled. So does his but we're really close so it really isn't that hard to understand.

"Call me if you run into some big trouble."

"Okay." Not. He's already done waay too much for lil' ol' me. Did I mention he bought me a piano? For my breakthrough from depression after getting married. Aww, how sweet is that?

After another half an hour of cuddling I finally step outside my ex-job building. Can you believe that it started raining while I was on the see through elevator? You know, one of those cylinder pill-looking elevators that allow you to look outside in a feeble attempt to help the claustrophobics. Well, the moment I got on the Pill, the clouds instantly rushed around the city as if on cue to let me know that it hates me and started pouring buckets of water.

I love soaking up in a hot tub with a cup of nice warm milk and few Lindt dark chocolates, but that and this sort of water is entirely different. I hate water (for obvious reasons─don't get it? One word: Nekojin). The worst possible way to die in my opinion is to drown. Well, it might be an option since I'll probably get kicked out of my home, and while sleeping like some hobo in the subway station, the water _will_ flood by the rate it's raining at the moment causing me to drown if I don't get killed by Mariah first back in the house.

Well, that was a very nice, accurate fortunetelling if I do say so myself. Yet another possible career option if I do (miraculously) survive the night.

Shit, it really is pouring out here. The sound of water hitting the ground is so loud I can hardly here myself think. I can't even see anything… actually, I can see blurred figures running frantically to get out of the rain. I'll be getting in. Great.

Holy mother of cows. The water is much colder than I thought. My jacket is wool thus not water proof; it's soaking in water fast and getting heavier by the second. Damn, I should have taken that car ride! Can't even take a taxi now that I realize I hardly have any money on me and might be needing what little of it I have later in case I do get kicked out (a very likely possibility).

I'm running but obviously can't outrun rain. And I've just made the perfect timing for a stop light who apparently hates me too. It turns red just as I reach the street. Is that its way of flipping me the middle finger? Fuck you too. If I was superstitious, I think this may be a hint that I'm heading into a bad ni-

Motherfu-!!

A gigantic trailer has just rushed past me and totally drenched me in 2-meter high water. Soaking wet from head-to-toe, I see a black cat with yellow eyes across the street, safe under the bricks of the buildings stalking slowly across, sizing me up and… smirking.

Don't know about you, but I think there's enough evidence to conclude that tonight will be an… interesting night.


	2. Night Out

A/N: Phew, finally done Chapt 2. I swear, it's SO long! I didn't even intend it to be so long, but ideas just would not stop sprouting while I was writing so I was forced to write a lengthy chapter. I must say, it's worth the time though. Not so funny in the beginning, but near the end is pretty good. Can you believe I spelled toilet 'toilette' instead? My inner French coming out, I guess. I fixed it, don't worry.

I meant to put it up on the First Day of Spring, but as I said, it became much longer so it took me couple extra days to finish it. Hope you like it, and R&R!

* * *

I'm here

I'm here.

I'm **here.**

After my tiring and painful dragging of one foot placed in front of the other every other minute or so in waterfall, I see my 5th floor apartment. The place that previously was domestic and homely; inside of which resides both the bane of my life, and the light of my life, conveniently situated within doors of one another, so that after my daily struggle with one, I can find relief with the other. Unfortunately, this will be the last night I get to set my foot into this hellhole/heaven.

I've been standing outside the gate for about 20 minutes or so, still with the rain pouring like there is no tomorrow, or Day After Tomorrow. The security guard was eyeing me very suspiciously since I won't come in. I will just stand outside in the pouring rain, in the dark, with my mucky wool coat, black dress pants, and dark, loosely held knee length hair… all of which is crying tears of misery at the sudden looming doom that awaits them. Oh, sorry, that's just the rain. I could only imagine what I looked like to the security guard. His expression however was a dead giveaway: mentally challenged maniac.

But now he (the security) is gone. He's been gone for about 5 minutes and the little stand up picture of a clock on top of the security desk that reads 'will return at' points to 11:00 p.m., about an hour from now. Gone to do what? I don't know. Do I look like I was ever a security guard? I'd probably run the first scary stranger I see. To hell with protecting other people I don't know. Anyway, he's probably gone to do some boring security stuff. It's the least of my worries at the moment.

I should really go in. Can't afford to catch a cold since I will need to be in tip top shape to hunt down a place to stay tonight.

Aand I just realized that since now the security is not present, I must dial up the number that connects the speaker phone in the lobby to my house to reach somebody (namely Mariah) who has to press the button 9 in order to kindly unlock the door for me.

The (not so) Great Pink War Battle Numero Uno: Intercom

I let out a deep breath and _finally _march into the lobby. It sure is a lot warmer than standing outside in the rain. Could this indicate that I got that much closer to hell? Don't know until I talk to the devil. Or deviless in this case. Through this speaker phone. Yup… Got to do that.

Come on now Kon. Raise your arm, stick out your index finger, and punch in the numbers.

It's okay. The Witch can't get to you. You're still 5 floors beneath her, and it'll take her about 45 seconds to trudge down to the lobby, and that gives plenty of time for you to make a run for it. It being your precious little pharynx.

6… 6… 6…

If my life wasn't in mortal danger, I would've cracked some joke about our ill-omened number, but I'm just too anxious right now. My palm is sweating bullets. So is my face. That's it! I've had just about enough water for today, be they salty or not.

Dialing… Dialing…

_Beep_

Oh God.

"Hello? " Mariah… sounding… calm?

"Ma.. Mariah? It's… me. Ray. Could you maybe open the door for me… Honey?" Oh yeah, by the way, can you promise to not shoot me when I get inside, too? Thanks, Doll.

_Click_

What?

The light beside the door turns from intimidating red to bright warm green, signaling the granted permission from my (not) beloved spouse.

Just like that.

I was prepared for anything. I was prepared for the angry swearing through the intercom, followed by the thunderous footsteps with enough force to crack the concrete stairwells, crumbling the very foundation of this two years old building, the wailing and sobbing, the blaming and not to forget, the killing.

But this. This… docile reaction. Not this.

What is the meaning of this? The usual Mariah would do everything of the aforementioned and more. This can go both ways: either a) Mariah had a sudden life changing experience (involving God knows what) between the time frame of me getting caught by the Bitch and arriving at our place, or b) she's just giving me false sense of hope and wants me to let my guard down for bigger, more destructive impact.

Yeah, the latter sounds about right.

Still, who knows? Maybe she didn't hear it after all. Maybe Tala misheard the Bitch talking to someone else and not Mariah. Maybe the Bitch dialed the wrong phone number and told a total stranger about my sex life. Maybe God loves me!

Wow, never thought I'd say those 4 words in a row. A guy can only hope. It's all right to laugh, really. The last statement is so absurd it actually leaves a strange taste in my mouth, like waking up in the morning to find a gum in your mouth that you forgot to spit out the night before. Has that ever happen to you? No? Just me? Oh well, for future reference, the gum turns to a chalky powder. Sorry, too much info.

But as I'm making my way up the stairs, I'm getting pretty confident. The Great Pink War may be cancelled after all! Mariah would never act this normal if she did in fact find out about me and you-know-who doing you-know-what at you-know-where. Never. Jamais. Nunca. I do believe that if I play my cards right, she won't even have to know about me getting fired. I'll just pick any one of the possible careers I thought up couple hours ago and run 2 or even 3 shifts if I have to everyday.

It's going to be all right. I'm going to make it through.

I see the door to my home and I'm not even breaking a sweat. There's just this very quiet, calm aura of tranquility surrounding me and the door like thick layer of fog on the late night streets of rainy London. I hear the couple next door quarrelling but their yelling match sounds so far away… Almost as if I'm underwater and everything is blurred, moving slowly… Leisurely reaching for the handle… Twisting the handle… Gradually putting force on the metal to initiate the slow process of opening… the door…

And a sharp metal projectile implanted on the wall beside my face breaks the barrier and everything is moving at normal pace again.

A knife.

…Welcome back to reality, Kon.

Oh, hi there Mariah. Lovely weather we're having.

"You."

Mariah is looking pretty dangerous right about now. Although she seems to have given up on using knives to throw (probably worried about the fancy deco getting ruined) it won't stop her from doing any more physical damage to me. Not good.

Speaking of the deco… What is up with my house today? It looks a bit more… pink, with lots of unnamable frilly stuff hanging around. Ew. I think I'm getting a rash. I see lots of candles lit too, most of them burned almost down to the bottom. There is soft Oscar Peterson Jazz coming out the stereo, and the dining table is full with untouched food. I also see several bottles of champagne, glinting off burgundy light from the dimly lit pink room, all of which starkly contrasts the tense atmosphere.

Time to focus, Kon. You can check out the ...things later.

Mariah's wearing some tight (literally, not figuratively) mini strapless dress that shows off her every "curves" in the most unflattering sense. What the hell?

"Mariah. I.. What's all this?"

"This? What is all _this,_ Ray?" She scoffs, the little movement making the clumps of dried mascara on her eyelashes fall off. "You really want to know what all _this_ is? Tell me _Ray-Ray_. What day is it today?"

...Is that a trick question?

"March 20th?"

She's staring.

"First day of Spring?" I offer.

Stll nothing.

No, correction: quivering. Quivering of her red painted lips is all I can see now that her bangs have covered her raccoon eyes.

"No. No, Ray. That isn't it. It's our anniversary, Ray. Our. 6th. Wedding. Anniversay. " She hiccups. Her voice is shaking. "I just thought maybe. Just maybe we could do something like what a normal married _man_ and a _woman _do on their anniversaries."

Way to go Ray. And you dared to even think that some things in life would go the way you wanted it to. You should've realized that on this day, 6 years ago, you sold all your hopes and dreams on a little contract called marriage. And judging by the heavily accented 'man' and 'woman', I think it's safe to assume that she knows of your… external affairs.

"Mariah… I-"

"You make me sick to my stomach. Disgusting." She jerks her head up. Tears are running freely (along with the aforementioned mascara). My mouth is clamped shut. "How dare you treat me this way?! After all that we've been through with each other, this is what you give me? I've stayed faithful and loyal to you ever since the beginning of our relationship and this is how you repay me? You're a freak! Nothing but a worthless scum of the earth! " She stumbles backwards and grabs hold of the table. "People like you… People like you don't deserve what you have! People like you should be all rounded up and killed! You little ungrateful son of a bitch!"

"Stop. Stop screaming. "

"What? Why should I listen to you! Do you know what this means? You're gay. You, Ray Kon, are _gay_. It's not even a woman that you cheated me with. If you slept with another woman, I might have. I _might_ have been able to deal with it. You. You slept with Tala. Tala! Tala!? What the hell are you! You're nothing but a sick freak! Freak of Nature! After all our years together this is what you do to me?!

"I haven't done anything to you." I say through clenched teeth.

Mariah laughs, in the most irritating and unsettling manner I've ever heard in my life.

"You haven't done anything? Put your hand on your left chest and tell me Ray. You. You haven't done _anything_ to me. How are you going to repay me for all my years spent on you?! Spent on Rose?! You don't even have a fucking job! What are you going to tell Rose, huh Ray? You think she won't know what this is about? You think that everyone at Rose's kindergarten won't find out? They do, Ray. They always find out. Is this what you wanted? For your own daughter to suffer through her parents' divorce? Not to mention the cause of the divorce: because her father was _gay_?! What are you going to do about Rose? About me?! How are you going to repay us you filthy faggot! "

She throws a bottle at me and it crashes at my feet, sending the glass debris across the room along with the bubbling substance. That doesn't throw me off track. I heard her words. Every. Single. One.

"Repay you? 'Repay' you, Mariah? Tell me, _darling._ What's it all about? Are you upset, are you crying over me, my love, or my possessions, my job? All the little hopes and dreams for the future that you always, _always_ reminded me. Are they about us, about Rose, or are they all the _materials_ that we were to have, our _house,_ our _cars_?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Her voice cracks. "I don't plan on having any future involving a _homo_. And don't you even think about taking Rose. If you know what's good for her, you'll leave her with me. "

"No. You may be her mother, but I'll never trust you to take good care of a kid. What am I saying? You're a kid yourself. Rose. Stays. With. Me. "

"You're craz-"

"Daddy….?"

The soft gentle voice spills into the room, taking advantage of the brief recess of our yelling match. Both of us turn around to see Rose, right next to the white door that connects the living room and her room. Her dark hair is down to her waist and she's wearing a grey pajama dress she'd gotten for pulling her first tooth out herself, holding her cotton kitten friend Nero on her right hand, rubbing the sleep out of her left eye with her left.

"Rose, go back to bed. " Mariah says.

"Mommy… What are you wearing? "

"Rose, come to Daddy. Mommy's having a hard time right now so we have to go away for a teensy little bit. "

"But Daddy… There's a boogeyman in my closet. Make him go away so I can get me and Nero's jacket. "

"Of course sweetie. Let's go get your jacke-"

"NO. Rose. Listen to me. Go back to bed. Now, young lady."

"But mommy…"

"I said now!"

"Rose, Mommy's a little bit upset right now so she doesn't really know what she's talking about. We have to go out for a little bit and Daddy will send nice people in pretty white coats to take good care of Mommy-"

"You be quiet."

I've had it. Rose need to be out of here before we break out into Round Two. Oh, no doubt I'll be leaving with her.

I make my way to Rose.

"Come on sweetie. Let's go."

"I said no!"

Mariah makes a mad dash to Rose, scooping her up before I have a chance to. Rose screams. Mariah runs into Rose's room locking the door. Fuck.

"Rose!"

"Daddy!"

"Get out of here, Ray. I don't want to see you until court date. We're finished. I'm filing for divorce the first thing tomorrow so you'd better look for a lawyer quick if you want any of your money. Don't even dream about Rose. Child custody always goes to the mother. I'll make sure of it."

"Listen you little-. No matter what you think, Rose is _much_ happier with me. I-"

"I said get the hell out of here you faggot!"

I hear Rose sobbing. My head is spinning. I feel like I'm in space and the pressure is squeezing in on me from all angles, making me want to puke, forcing my throbbing head to implode.

"If you don't leave, I'm calling the police." Sick. Sick twisted voice that mocks me.

"Watch it." I snarl back. "You think mothers _always_ win? If you bothered to get within a mile radius of the nearest television, radio, newspaper, or a magazine for the past year, you'd see that Britney Spears lost custody of her children to a white gangster-wannabe with separate children of his own. You could be next."

"Is that a threat? I'm dialing. "

I slowly back away from the door. I still hear Rose's muffled cries and every single one of them rips my heart to shreds. Every step I take feels 10 times heavier than the last. Slowly, but surely, I make it out the door, closing it with a click. I would've stayed there all night, but Mariah may just be crazy enough to call the police. I don't want to have a record just before going to the court for Rose. Mark my words Mariah, it's far from over.

I step back out into the lobby and the Security Man is back. Has an hour past already? I guess so. Time sure flies when one is battling for their offspring. The security man turns, takes one look at me and narrows his eyes. His posture goes rigid. The hell is wrong now? I see my face reflected off a painting placed on the wall and realize that the knife Mariah threw made a scar on my left cheek and the blood has dried while it was bleeding, leaving an ugly trail. Geez louise, I look like a regular robber with my black attire. Now that kind of scar needs band-aids. Unfortunately for me, now that I have acquired a scar that needs a band-aid, I have none.

Of course thinking of band-aids reminds me of today's incidents in my office and a soothing face pops into my mind: Tala.

Now what. Do I call him? As I've stated before, NO, since he's already done way too much for me. I don't like being in debt to another, and I'm trying to limit calling and using him. It just makes me feel uncomfortable when somebody does too much for me. I'm weird like that. Got a problem? We can take it outside.

Actually, I _am_ outside. Thankfully the rain has let up leaving a cool pitch black sky, like a just completed jig saw puzzle. There is a slight breeze and the temperature is on the cold side for March. Although my hair and pants have dried, my wool jacket (being wool) did not dry yet and the cold air is forming ice crystals on it.

Now what do I do? I only have 45 dollars and 34 cents on me and that's no where close to enough to get a room in a hotel. The best I'll be able to do is some cheap motel that low class prostitutes go to earn some quick dough. I am so not going there. I can't sleep on some random mattress and sheets knowing that HIV infected people had sex on them, no sirree. I don't plan on ending my not-so-active sex life just yet, if ever.

Well, I'm back to square one. Do I call Tala? No. I won't! I can't get any more help from him. I refuse to. I have my pride.

Ookay. I'm thinking that this cold weather is getting to me since I see in the distance some… things falling out of the apartment. Reminds me of the song 'It's raining men' for some odd reason. Whoa, that sounds too gay to even be featured in Will and Grace. What _is _my sexual preference? Am I even a bi anymore? I think staying with Mariah really turned me off from women once and for all. Does that mean that I'm-

Wait.

That's _my _apartment.

What the fu-

"What the hell are you doing Mariah?! Are you insane?!"

"Oh Ray. Didn't I tell you? You don't live here any more! I'm just sending your stuff down! I even packed for you while I was waiting! Catch!"

Another load of stuff falls I break out into a mad sprint in a feeble attempt to catch it. Don't get me wrong, I am an extremely fast runner but the basic rules of physics beat me effortlessly; something called gravity. Damn, I knew I should have graduated high school. Now it comes back to bite me in the ass.

Speaking of my ass… I see one of the underwear has landed on a tree branch and a fidgety squirrel is looking at it very curiously albeit a bit too suspiciously for my liking. What is a squirrel doing so late at night? Never knew they were nocturnal creatures. Ah, after a whifting a scent, it dashes away with it, held tightly by its buck teeth. Probably the effect of Downy's new Ultra Super Soft Detergent enriched with Lilac and Vanilla. Remind me to call in for a complaint: Disappearance of clothing due to the Raid of the Squirrels. _Sigh._ On top of a hellish night, I just lost a great pair of boxers.

I hear the balcony door slam shut. The last thing that lands right on the top of my head is a bag. Inside is a towel, a toothbrush and a toothpaste. The bag itself is no where close to being big enough to fit my entire wardrobe, but seeing as Mariah only 'sent' down a few basic necessities, there is room to fit all of them.

Might as well occupy myself with thinking up a solution for my number one dilemma while picking up the wet materials: Where on earth will I stay during this cold spring night? Will anybody come take me home? Heh, me and Avril should get together sometime and collaborate. Or become prostitutes since we're thinking basically along the same line with that suggestive phrase. Whichever way that earns more money of which I need more than ever at the moment.

Again, back to square one. Damn, didn't know just how dependent I am on Tala. I guess one is obligated to turn to their (dare I say it) boyfriend in time of desperate need.

Tala… my boyfriend. My boyfriend Tala? …No. That doesn't sound right. That word just clicked something in my uneducated mind and is telling me that those three words just do not connect, just like when you read a sentence of incorrect grammar and your brain automatically tells you something is wrong. How can I call Tala as my boyfriend when my stubborn heart won't act as the brain tells it to─to erase the one person who is the least deserving of my unrequited love from the painful memories?

Tala knows. I have talked about the sensitive subject with him just before my doomed marriage. The so-called bachelor party he threw me was more of a funeral. It was just the two of us, hanging out (we were 'just friends'). In an inebriated state, I revealed the secret that I have never, ever told anybody before. I planned on keeping it to myself and to my reflection on the mirror until the day I finally kick the bucket; it was a secret I was determined to keep locked under thick layers of façade, but everything came bursting out that night. I don't know what caused it... oh, no I do know. It was good old fashioned booze. I probably consumed life time's worth of the substance during the week of my marriage (including the night that the failure of Operation Drink-Myself-To-Death-During-Honeymoon-leading-to-Unintended-yet-grateful-childbearing took place).

I don't even exactly remember the night too clearly. It's all a haze to me now but I know that Tala remembers every little detail of what I told him. Everything was just building inside; I guess subconsciously, my mind was screaming to get it out to somebody. For me, all I remember telling him was just that I did love Kai. He kept emphasizing the 'did'. I guess he felt sorry for me.

Finally, the last of the clothes are packed. She picked the ugliest of everything. If it was an attempt at getting back at me, it's immature, but effective, since I see she's given me a suit that's one size too big for me. For the later court date I guess. Can that bitch (not The Bitch; but pretty damn close) be smarter than I give credit for? …Nah, beginner's luck.

Now what? I check my wallet for the millionth time. Yup, definitely not enough money for a hotel. I guess I really have no other choice except to call Tala-

Eh? What's this?

A slip of paper flutters out of one of the pockets in the wallet and lands on the wet grass, instantly soaking in the excess liquid, smudging the ink a little. I pick it up. 6-276-4456…?

Ding Ding Ding!

That's right! You don't call your boyfriend when you're facing a dire financial problem; you call your parents!

With that new bright idea (I'm so smart) I rush to the nearest pay phone. Thankfully my (ex)apartment is located somewhat near downtown so pay phones are pretty easy to find. I find one after running for about 5 minutes but a bald, obese middle-age man is using the phone at the moment. He sees me running to the phone… and he winks. Next.

About 20 minutes later, just as I'm starting to pant, I locate one and it is free. Yes.

I dial the number and wait, albeit a bit impatiently.

"He-lloo?" Ah, the voice of an angel. I've never been more delighted to hear your awkward hellos mom.

"Hey. This is-"

"Ray!! Baby!! How are you darling?! How's Rose? How's Mariah? Is she pregnant again? Is it a boy or a girl this time? Happy first day of spring! Are you feeling well? What's wrong?! You're not talking! You didn't call for the longest time dear! You had me worried sick!"

Oh yes. Mothers never change. And for once, I'm actually glad for it.

"Yeah… I'm doing… fine, considering."

"Oh honey. What's the matter? You seem so sad. My poor, poor baby. It's okay. Mommy's here now. Mommy's always there for you-"

"Okay. Mom. I'm OK, really. I just… I.." Gosh, should I just come right out and ask? Seems rude but… she's my mom so…

"Just ask, darling. You know I'll never say no to you sweetie." …Very well, then.

"The thing is… I… I'm running a little bit out of cash at the moment. I-"

"Oh no!! Honey (my dad)! Our poor baby's starving to death on the cold streets of Tokyo! Mommy told you not to go away to such a… different town. How's Mariah and Rose? Are they starving too? Come back home darling! Mommy's cooking your favorite tonight─garlic flavored roasted chicken!"

What can I say?

"No! I'm not starving, Ok? I'm just having some… minor marital issues, and I just need some air to clear my head." Understatement of the century. Don't look at me like that. What am I suppose to say huh? Hi mom. I need money. Oh, by the way, we're divorced? My parents probably wouldn't even know the meaning of the word if it slapped them upside their heads.

"Marital...issues?" Confused tone. Yup. Definitely wouldn't know it.

I rub a hand down my face. I feel terrible already asking for money out of nowhere. I don't think I can lie to them too. Don't look so surprised! I'm not a bad person, all right? Although I may seem a _little_ bit sarcastic from time to time, I do have a conscious, and a very much healthy, warm heart. I do care about these people who I call my parents and I don't want to disappoint or upset them. Or lie to them. Why must I be like this? They won't even figure out even if I did lie.

No, they will find out. Mariah probably called her parents to tell them all about me and my dirty little secret. What is up with me and songs today? Anywho, I'm surprised my parents' haven't gotten the news yet. That girl never really learned the meaning of shutting the hell up.

I sigh.

"Well… Don't freak out or anything, but… It's like this…"

I explain the whole situation. Of course I left out the bit about the photocopying room, you perverts. Don't know about you, but I'm just not the type of guy who shares his sexual experiences (or preferences) with his mom, all right? I also left out the bit about Tala. I just gave her a taste, telling her that there's been a 'conflict' between me and Mariah, so we've decided to split. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah… So, I'm outside right now. I just need a place to stay for a short time. That's why I'm asking for some money… Is it alright?" Let's see how my mom handles it. She'll be alright… Right?

Silence.

More silence.

"…mom?"

_Click._

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep…_

Aand she hung up.

Crap.

I dial again.

_Click_

"Mo-"

"He-lloo friend! You have reached the wonderfully kind Kon's residence. So sorry, we're not here to pick up your very important call. Leave your name, phone number, and a detailed message after the special Kon Tone, and we will make sure to get right back at you. Oopsie, I meant we will make sure to call you back. Honey, did that sound silly-"

_Meow! _(the infamous Kon Tone)

I hang up the phone. Well, there goes that brilliant idea. Will call back later but it's pointless (and a waste of valuable quarters) to try to reach mom now. Too traumatized. I have to take the psychiatrical approach here.

Putting the speaker down, I look around. I'm not really familiar with this part of town. It looks really… shady. Garbage is blowing everywhere. Despite it being a cold night, there are a lot more people here than where I live. All most all the girls on this street are wearing anything revealing and tight. It almost looks as if some of them aren't wearing anything except for a thin little jacket that barely covers their bottoms. Whores. Guys are lurking about, smoking, laughing, drinking and spitting gums on all sides of the street. Every corner is occupied with by a couple, some looking to be about 14 or 15, 16 at most.

Kids these days. Tsk, tsk…

However, I do realized that I am immensely outnumbered here so I better try to blend in and somehow get out of this place before I really get in trouble with some of them. I'm no expert or anything, but I do smell drugs.

That reminds me; I have a confession to make to you guys… I did actually try drugs. Once. Only once, and I did not get hooked. It was from some crazy music kid in my building who's constantly getting into trouble with his step dad. Why did I take it if I'm such a nice guy that I've told you I am? It was the first week of our marriage, and I was on the breaking point from lack of sleep. Mariah just won't keep her dirty hands to herself! I tried to snap out of sleepiness with two extra large black coffees but it _still _wasn't enough, and I almost barfed from drinking too much caffeine. If I went to work and slept and inevitably get caught by The Bitch who's watching me every freaking second? She'll fire me. That She-man looked for everything that might get me into trouble.

It was weed. I didn't think much of it and was going to pass but the manner in which the kid offered me the stick he rolled himself was pretty interesting, so I took it. When he asked me if I wanted some, he was so high; it was actually kind of funny because most of the time, he would be überly depressed, his head would literally be hanging from his neck, bend down directed to the ground, and he was always looking through his brows. Really disturbing kid. But whenever this kid got high, he went _so _high I thought he'd drill a permanent hole on the ceiling of heaven. So I tried it, mostly out of curiosity on what makes him act so differently.

One. Whiff. That's all you need to have the whole world screaming for mercy in the palm of your hand. I felt like I'd been voted as the new President. It felt like I'd taken 10 shots at one go. The world immediately spun out of control, and you feel very dizzy, but so, so happy. Blissful. Instant drunken state.

I never tried it again. Answer: Rose. Without her, I would have probably become addicted, no question. I don't really have much self control for physical pleasures (ex. Tala), but Rose really helped me to be happy and I really didn't want to let her down. Cheesy, but true. You just don't know it because you ain't got no daughter to love, bitch.

Ouch, bumped into a person. I should stop concentrating so much on my inner monologues and really watch where I'm going.

"Sorr-"

"Who the fuck is this?!"

Whoa, talk about over reacting. Just who does this man think he is, barking out profanities like that to a stranger? How rude!

I look at the object I've bumped into. Kinda hairy for a face. Scratch that; _really _hairy. And wide. And why in hell are the eyes so far apart and… pink?

"I'm over here, you moron." A voice booms from the sky. Is God speaking to me…?

I look up.

Ah.

"You from 'round here?"

A bushy eye brow is cocked up to the heavens as the voice simultaneously busts both my ear drums.

The Hairy Monster I've thought to be the face was in fact a chest. A damn hairy, wide and flabby chest, where there appears to be some fat deposits coming together to form one of the biggest man-boobs I've ever encountered in my short life, passing right by me as I speak (or rather, think).

The actual face isn't all that better either. Above the drooping tubby neck is a gigantic face with a humungous mouth sagging down to form a frown, covered by lips that looks like a split barfed up salmon. Around the puke-inducing mouth are the beginnings of a messy oily beard along with a mole the size of a base of a water bottle. He is bald. I thought bald people always wore hats. Guess not, considering that I've just seen two bald men walking around town without one during the last thirty minutes. I realize it is not the time to be conducting scientific experiments on (bald) strangers' behaviors. I don't dare look down. I'm afraid of what I might see.

"…N, no." I stutter. Way to be a man Kon. You go tell him, big guy.

He looks me up and down. Ew. I feel dirty (literally) getting even a stare from such a disgusting creature. I need to shower.

"You a chick or a dick?"

What. The. Fuck.

I.. _really _need to get out of here. Badly.

"So sorry. I'm… deaf." I point to my ear.

The man is looking at me, with a blank, stupid look. I know it is probably the lamest lie in the history of lame lies since I already replied to one of his questions but I can't think of a better lie at the moment, which should tell you the exact state of my brain; pre-developed peanut-sized brain. Why did my mom have to drink when she was pregnant with me? However, it could also be because I'm _this_ close to wetting myself. The only person in the world who I'm more scared of than the man standing right in front of me would be Bryan. It's that intense.

Silence.

"Oh." The man says.

"Pardon?" At least I can keep up the act. Maybe he'll buy it.

"Okay." The man says… and smiles what would have been a toothy grin if it weren't for all the missing/blackened teeth, including the front two. _Man_.

He suddenly grabs my arm. What is he doing?!

I look back and forth from the back of his head (since now he has turned around) to the grubby hand pulling me away from the street crowd with saucer-sized eyes.

"What are you doing!?" I scream.

Nobody looks. He doesn't even turn around. I see he's heading for one of the aforementioned dirty, stinky, piss-on-the-wall alleyways. The little filthy minded son of a-

I snap my head around to see what I can do to prevent my looming doom from taking place. Nothing. People are too busy with their own business to even look in our direction, and those who do don't really strike me as the normal justice-loving, people-helping citizen of the country. They're these two ogre-sized, steroid induced men that are… laughing.

The alleyway is a lot closer than I thought and before I know it, I'm shoved on the pissed walls. Oh God. What's a guy gotta do to get a shower around here?

A hand suddenly grabs the collar of my still wet coat and rips it open, breaking every single button on the way. And the coat is now off on one shoulder while he's forcing the other arm out.

No… no! This can't be happening!

"Let go of me!"

The guy ain't listening. I'm struggling but I can't push him off. He probably weighs at least ten times heavier than me. I scratch at his throat, and it leaves a deep cut, blood pouring down instead from his jaw. Damn, missed by an inch.

"Fuck. Your gon' pay for that bitch."

With a sickening crunch, my head spins right. What just happened..? My mouth tastes metallic… blood? My mind is whirling and everything seems to be spinning much too fast for me to keep up. My jaw is throbbing and it feels like it's been dislocated. After the numbness I feel severe pain and heating on the area. A bruise forming, no doubt.

He takes advantage of my limp form to finally get the sleeve out of my arm and is working on my belt. I got to stay focused! I fight back the unconsciousness creeping in. He's facing down, and he's head is near my waist. If I can just… focus enough of my strength to give one effective shot…

With a battle cry, I grab a hold of his head and with all my strength, strike (where I think is) his nose with my right knee. Then I, with the same, now outstretched foot, kick him right in the balls. Bull's (or Ball's) eye!

"Nguh…. The hell…"

I push him back and he falls on his ass, grabbing his crotch, blood dripping from both his inflared nostrils. I grab my bag and make a mad dash out the alley. I don't have the time to pick up the ripped coat. Guess I'll be freezing on top of starving for the next week. I think he'll stay down for a while, but I can't take any chances. I look back while I'm running just to make sure, and I see the couple monster size guys that were laughing during the whole ordeal running into the alleyway. The Bald Pervert points at my sprinting figure… and sure enough, now the two fiends pick up some wooden sticks and start the inevitable chase. Shit.

I'm running at maximum speed (or at least as fast as my tired legs will carry me). Normally, that would be enough to lose anyone, but these guys are much faster than I thought. They're actually closing in! Shit shit gotta look for a place! Any place! I turn a corner, and it's a dead end, with a solid brick wall stopping me. I hear their booming footsteps getting louder and louder.

I whirl my head in every direction. A door! Fingers crossed. If it is locked, I will solemnly accept my fate. Maybe I really was meant to be killed by the knife Mariah threw, but somehow cheated death. Now, my pay is due. Final Destination much? The only sound in my ears now is my heart pouding against my ribs. I close my eyes and spin the door handle.

Unlocked! Yes! I rush in and slam the door shut, just as I see the two ogres sliding into the alley through a small glass on the door. They growl and run up. I instantly lock and bolt the door and their bodies slam onto the metal. I hear them trying to pry the door open, fiercely spinning the handle clockwise and counterclockwise. Obviously, they can't get it open and they're shouting curses at my face through the glass. Ha, suckers. It would be rude to ignore their comments though, no? So I do what most normal, polite citizens of this country would do:

I flip them The Finger.

Aand, they go crazy like wild lions fighting for the suitable mate during mating season. The door actually shakes from the impact of their fists, and I'm kinda scared they might actually break the door open, so I'd better get out of here before that unfortunate event takes place. The whole night has been full of those, and I'm sick of it. Could it be that Lemony Snicket is writing a story about me somewhere in this world? I'll never know.

I climb up the set of stairs the door leads into. Really narrow, dimly lit, steep stairs; you know, one of those ones you have to grab onto the equally thin and frail-looking railing to ensure your well being. After about 20 of those, I go through another extremely narrow corridor; just enough space for me to fit through. I feel like a red blood cell in the capillaries. I come to a little lobby-ish looking place: a desk, with a balding man behind the desk. What is up with me and bald guys today? Yeesh. He's sporting a greasy looking wife-beater. The whole place is in need of some serious repair and cleaning. Looks almost as filthy as my ex-office. Hesitantly, I walk up to the man. Hope he's not as mental (or as perverted) as the previous baldies.

"Hi." That's good Ray. Keep up the nicey-ness.

He looks at me. "Yeah?"

"Um, sorry. I just got.. lost. Could you tell me where I am?"

"You're at Motel For the Poor. Want a room?"

Motel For the Poor. Hmmm. Sounds about right.

"Yes, please."

"One bed, a bathroom with toilet, sink. No window. No TV or anything like that. "

Wait.

"No… showers?"

He gives me an incredulous look.

"The place is called Motel For the Poor. Want a room or not?"

Right. Beggars can't be choosers.

"How much?"

"30 a night."

Whoa. Too expensive.

"I can give you 20."

"25."

"22."

"Deal." And he gives me a key. 109.

I give him the 22 bucks and my wallet is feeling very much lighter, thank you very much. I carry my slightly wet bag and walk up to the wooden door that's marked '109' with a red fading marker. The paint is chipping off, and there are some mysterious looking holes drilled on the door, but they're tiny so I'm not worried.

I twist the key around for some time, and I hear a click after the fifth rotation. Then the door is jammed. Shit. I rattle the door handle back and forth a bit, and the door finally creaks open.

I go into the carpeted room and turn on the lamp.

Wow…….

The bed is just a tiny spring mattress carelessly tossed on top of a rotting bed frame. The sheet look like it's been washed twice since it's been bought, say about the same time as my mom was born. There is dust flying every where, causing me to put my hand on my sleeve and cough several times. Nowhere to ventilate since this place doesn't have a window. It doesn't look like it has heating or ac as well.

The 'bathroom' is just a room about the size of my closet with just a toilet and a metal sink attached to the side. The toilet paper is on top of the toilet, rattling.

Wait.

Rattling… toilet paper?

I stand quietly, and listen. Yes, there is some kind of a… repeated movement going on, on the wall of my bathroom. What the hell…?

The rattling of toilet paper intensifies a couple notches, and the disturbance is causing the water pooled in the toilet to make rings. The time in between the rattling has shortened; speed of whatever's causing such a commotion is accelerating.

I hear moaning and grunting of a male and a female through the weak walls.

And a scream, muffled shortly.

Oh.

_Ooh._

….Ah.

The movement has started again, but not from the same room; this one's coming from the ceiling. I see flakes of concrete crumbling down, landing on the water of the toilet bowl.

This is going to be a _long _night.


End file.
